From Washington DC
by Yami no Ryu
Summary: On the plane from Washington, D.C. to Colorado Springs, Jack meets an interesting person... JackDaniel slash, OCOC femslash, oneshot


Title: From Washington D.C.  
Fandom: Stargate SG-1  
Pairing: Jack/Daniel  
Rating: PG  
Words: 1261  
Time: exactly fifty minutes  
Summary: Jack meets a very strange woman on the plane from Washington D.C. to Colorado.  
Notes: Written for the contrelamontre **travel** challenge. _The plot isn't about the beginning or the ending of the trip, but the actual act of being in motion between points A and B. Where they may be going, how they're getting there, and if they're traveling alone (to or from a lover) or with a companion is all up to you. Try to work in the word "snack", just to amuse me. You have 50 minutes._

Jack tried to relax into the comfortable first class airplane seat, but his muscles refused to loosen. He was finally heading home, after days of grueling, boring, slow-paced meetings whose only function was to put him to sleep. It had never felt so good to leave Washington D.C. behind.

Well, maybe last year's return trip had been better. Daniel had been along then, for reasons he still couldn't understand, nor cared to. The fact that they had been together through the stay had been enough for Jack.

This time, though, he was all alone. And very bored. He tried the crossword of the newspaper he had picked up, but found that he didn't know a third of the answers himself. It didn't help his concentration that wistful thoughts like _Daniel would know what a charm school subject was_ kept popping unannounced into his mind. He tried to read the book he bought on a whim in the airport, but couldn't get into the story. He tried sleeping, but he was too keyed up to relax and his mind wouldn't shut up long enough. So he ended up staring at the back of the seat in front of him.

He was on the 1492 stitch when the stewardress came by with her cart of snacks and drinks. He scowled for a moment at being interrupted, but after a moment's reflection, dismissed his irritation. Counting the number of stitches in the fabric was no more fun than listening to Carter's technobabble. The stewardress passed him a napkin and a packet of pretzels.

"What would you like to drink, sir?" the stewardress—_Anne_, he read on the nametag--asked cheerfully.

"What beers do you have?" Jack asked.

"We have Budweiser, Bud Light, and Heineken," Anne replied, after a moment's scrounging.

"I'll have a Heineken," the Colonel said, taking the can and cup with ice. Anne moved on. So he was left with his Heineken, and his pretzels. His thoughts, of their own violation, moved to last time he'd had Heineken. It had involved a very naked Daniel and--

Jack steered himself away from that line of thought; wouldn't do to get a hard-on in the middle of the flight, now, would it?

He looked at his watch. Still three hours left. Damn.

He gave a heartfelt sigh.

"Something bothering you, son?"

Jack looked to his left. A woman he guessed was in her sixties or seventies was sitting easily in the chair as if she'd spent half her life in it. Her tanned, slightly-wrinkled face was open and sympathetic.

"Nothing at all, ma'am," Jack replied respectfully.

The woman raised an eyebrow. _Sometimes, I really don't like nosey old women_, Jack thought irritably.

"I'm Carroll Simon," she offered.

"Jack O'Neill," he returned politely.

"You going back home, or just leaving?" she asked.

"Going home, Mrs. Simon," Jack said.

"Wife's waiting, eh?" the kindly woman asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Not anymore, ma'am," Jack said, a tinge of sorrow in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry. A divorce?"

Jack considered a moment, then thought, _It won't hurt_, and nodded.

"That's so sad. It's so difficult these days to find someone to share your life with," Carroll said regretfully. "I was lucky to find my Bekah so early on."

Jack blinked a moment, and mentally replayed her last statement. He inquired carefully, "Daughter?"

"Bek? Oh, no," the woman laughed, bright eyed. "My spouse. We got married just two months ago in San Fransisco. We've been--ah, what do they call it these days?--'together' for a long, long time. It's wonderful times we live in, isn't it?"

Jack wondered how she could be so candid about something so generally frowned upon. Not even Daniel and himself were so open, though that was mostly due to his military status. "You're very honest, Mrs. Simon," Jack said, not knowing what else there was to say.

"Call me Carroll, son," she said with a small smile. "I suppose you could say I recognized a sibling soul."

Jack tensed automatically. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Simon--"

Carroll waved her hand, "I told you to call me Carroll, Mr. O'Neill. As for the other thing, well, I wouldn't worry if I were you. It isn't that obvious." Her eyes twinkled again--Jack was irrationally reminded of the Headmaster in the Harry Potter series--and she amended, "Well, not to one who isn't looking for the signs. And, son, I know the signs."

Jack was speechless for a moment.

"What's his name?" Carroll asked.

"Daniel," he replied automatically. "Jackson."

"Dr. Jackson, the archeologist?" she asked, startled herself. "Well, I'll be. I wondered where he disappeared off to."

"You're an archeologist?" he asked, preparing himself to defend Daniel's theories.

"No, a traveler; it's in my blood. I just follow the journals," she said. "I must say, his theories were quite...interesting. Pyramids as alien landing platforms?"

"He never said that, exactly, he simply pointed out that--" Jack began vehemently.

Carroll stopped him with a laugh. "Oh, you don't have to defend him here, son. His work is well-known, and very good. Even that theory is backed by several logical and convincing arguments. I admit, I don't think I'll believe it until I see some concrete proof, but I would not laugh him out of academia."

Jack sighed in relief. "He's still rather sore about that lecture," he admitted ruefully.

"I think it was very rude of him; I heard only one person stayed," Carroll said with a frown. "And then he just disappeared, barely publishing anything, and all of it rather conservative."

"He figured to work his way slowly back into the academic community," Jack said, and it was mostly the truth. Daniel still wanted to be an accepted individual in his chosen field of study.

"I hope he succeeds," Carroll said solemnly.

The conversation continued, eventually turning onto other threads, and Jack found the flight back to be very interesting indeed. He ended up with Carroll's phone number, Carroll with his, and a promise to call her.

ONE WEEK LATER-

The phone rang, Jack looked up from the steak he was grilling in the garden, and at Daniel, reading a book in the sunlight. The other snapped his book shut, saying, "I'll get it."

Daniel walked quickly to Jack's phone, picking it up and saying, "O'Neill residence. Daniel Jackson speaking."

"Dr. Jackson? Oh, good, I was hoping to talk to you!" said an aged, female voice he didn't recognize. "I'm Carroll Simon; Jack an I met on the plane?"

"Oh! Yes, Jack mentioned you," Daniel said, still confused. "Hello."

"I want to say, first of all, that I respect you very much, young man," Carroll said, her tone serious. "I don't see why you disappeared, but I'm glad you found Jack. He's a friendly fellow."

"Um, thank you," Daniel said, completely blown over.

"And very nice on the eyes," she added, and Daniel could almost _hear_ her wink.

"Um...would you like to, to talk to Jack?" he managed.

"Of course," she said kindly.

"Jack!" he called into the back yard. "It's Carroll Simon on the phone!"

Jack inspected his not-yet-charred steak and nodded. "Be there in a sec," he yelled back, closing the grill and wiping his hands on his pants.

Daniel held the phone mutely to his lover, and Jack took it with a cheerful, "Well! Long time no speak, Carroll. How's Bekah?"

Daniel blinked, shook his head, and retreated to the patio.

After a moment, Jack stuck his head out of the door, "Daniel, how'd you like to go to Dover?"

FIN-


End file.
